


Midnight Thoughts

by Sincerelyyoursanonymous



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Azgeda Clarke Griffin, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-10-26 18:19:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17751053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sincerelyyoursanonymous/pseuds/Sincerelyyoursanonymous
Summary: When he finds out that not only is Earth survivable, but the Ark is dying, Jake Griffin sends his daughter to the ground. He hopes she'll be safe when he's gone. Believes that she is sent to Mt. Weather -- because that's what the coordinates on the escape pod said. But the pod malfunctions and Clarke falls to Earth -- landing in the Azgeda tundra.Azgeda!Clarke with a soulmate twist, set around the time Lexa becomes Heda.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Do I suck? I suck. If anyone reading this is reading my other work, Downcast Bleed from the Sky, I promise I haven't abandoned it. I've had a feat of writers block and, like with most of my stories I start when I'm working on another one, this one is helping me get out of it. It's an idea that's been stuck in my head for a while that I've been wanting to try out and throw into the collection of other Grounder!Clarke fics. 
> 
> This first chapter is just some backstory and getting Clarke in the swing of Azgeda. No Lexa yet -- she will come with time. Hope you enjoy.

**_ARK; age 13._ **

"Clarke, can I talk with you?" 

The blonde looked up, a curious glint in her eyes as she looked at her father. He had a serious tone to his voice; as if what he had to say to her was immensely important. While she didn't doubt that, she knew it was best not to procrastinate. 

"Sure, dad. What's up?" She asked once she was in the threshold of the living room. 

"I... need to tell you about something. Something important." 

She chewed her lip; she wasn't entirely sure why he was wanting to tell _her_ about it. Usually the important discussions were left to her mother -- the one who seemed to have some sort of power between the two of them. With her mother being a councilwoman it only made sense that anything really important was discussed with her. 

She sat on the couch next to her father; his dark clothes contrasting against the stark white of the rest of the room. They lived in luxury; her father working as a mechanic for the Ark and her mother not only a doctor in the medical wing, but having a higher power on the Ark. All Clarke knew for most of her life was luxury -- the televisions, better clothes, better food. It was how she was raised and, as any thirteen year old, she was often ridiculed during classes because of it. 

"There's a problem with the Ark, honey." Jake's voice was quiet; almost a whisper. Clarke didn't think her mother was home, and she didn't understand why he felt the need to be so quiet. Whatever it was, it couldn't be _that_ bad or else he wouldn't be telling her in the first place. 

"What's going on?" 

The man sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. Clarke could tell that he had been working hard that day, trying to fix whatever problem he had found. 

"I didn't want to tell you unless I was certain -- just in case. But Clarke -- the Ark is dying." Jake explained, a pained look on his face. It was difficult to tell her. To tell his own daughter that the home she had known her entire life was dying and there seemed to be nothing they could do about it. Clarke let out a shaky breath. 

"I don't understand--" 

"By the looks of it, we've got about fifty years left up here. Maybe less. I have to look more into it. But I need you to promise me something, Clarke." 

Clarke's eyes, teary, yet listening, looked back at her father, "What?" 

"You cannot tell your mother. If she finds out, there will be consequences. For you and for myself. I need to do more research but I _had_ to tell someone in case things go awry. Just promise me that you won't tell mom, or anyone else, okay?"

Clarke's nod is instant, despite her not fully understanding what it is she's agreeing to. But she trusts her father -- why wouldn't she? She trusts him, and she trusts his judgement. So she promises, and when he smiles that kind smile at her and tells her that everything is going to be okay, she believes him. 

\-----------------

**ARK. A week later.**

Earth is survivable. 

That's what Jake told Clarke that week. That the planet they had fled from so many years ago was finally survivable again. He had done research; snuck into the station that was doing that particular research to find out when they could return. And Jake had a plan. He led Clarke through they grey walls of the Ark, through the mobs of people and guards that didn't question it. Because Jake Griffin was known among the Ark. He was the top mechanic of the Ark. He was a good man to the people. He led his daughter to the mechanical station. 

"There's an escape pod in here, Clarke." He told her, brushing away the dust on the old fabric covering the hatch opening. "And it's fully working. It's programmed with coords to Mt. Weather on Earth; it's an old government bunker." 

"Why do we need this?" Clarke asked, confused. 

"If anything happens," He paused, swallowing thickly. "If anything happens to me, you are to go to Earth. The bunker has everything you'd need. Food, water. Shelter. You'd be safe there." 

Clarke was hesitant to agree. She didn't want to go to Earth alone -- she didn't want to go without him. "What do you mean 'if anything happens to you'? What's going to happen to you?" She asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest. 

"I was wrong, Clarke. The Ark has roughly thirty years left of surviviable air. That doesn't include the resources that go out to everyone every day that's diminishing. Doesn't count the supplies and food that go to everyone." He explained, leaning against the escape pod. He mimicked his daughter's position, crossing his own arms over his chest. "I have to tell the people of the Ark. They deserve to be in the know." 

Clarke sighs; she knows her father is right. It wouldn't be fair to them for them to face death without even knowing they were facing it. Hundreds of people, dozens of children who wouldn't even know it was coming. So Clarke complies, unhappily, to her father's plan. 

She refuses to think of what could possibly happen to him. 

\-------------------------

The next day Jake manages to hack into the monitors strewn around the Ark usually used for messages from the Chancellor. He begins to play a pre-recorded message telling the Ark of their demise, playing it on repeat. It gets through the first loop before chaos ensues among the Ark. Clarke was in her room, knowing of what was about to happen. She had accepted fate; knew  
it was inevitable that her father was going to be floated. She knew it, and she knew that he knew it too. It was why he left his favorite watch on her dresser that morning. All she had left to do now is wait. 

Abby was the first to find her. She tells her that Jake is to be floated within minutes -- that Clarke had that long to say goodbye to him, then she'd be off to the Skybox. What Abby didn't know, however, was that they had already said their goodbyes that night with a final "I love you". 

"What?" Clarke asked. 

"You knew of this, Clarke. And you didn't tell me. You're an accessory to this crime." Abby explained. There was a knock at the door. Guards, Clarke assumed. 

She swallowed, standing up. "Is it really a crime, though? The Ark is dying, mom. The people deserve to know--" 

"The people didn't need to know anything, Clarke. It was unnecessary. All it did was cause mass chaos among the people." 

"Because they're afraid of dying!" 

The guards had stepped forward, trying to diffuse the situation between mother and daughter. But Clarke knew this was her way out. She maneuvered around them, running as fast as she could and using the people gathering in the halls as a distraction to her escape. She had to get to the pod. _Faster, faster, faster!_

The door locked behind her when she got to the mechanical station. She knew that had to be her father's doing. Letting out a soft sigh of relief -- the only one she'd have for a while, she got to work. The dust on the tarp was still gone as she pulled it off, revealing her way to Earth. Her way to freedom; away from the Ark. Because it wasn't a home anymore. At least, not to her. Not with Jake about to be floated. 

There was banging on the door. 

Moving quickly, she opened the hatch and jumped inside, her father's watch clenched between her quickly-turning-white knuckles. She could hear the shouting of the guards through the door as she closed the hatch, hitting the big red button. 

The descent through space was a lot faster than Clarke realized. She struggled to strap into the seat, her shaking hands fumbling with the buckle. But in that moment, she was more worried about potentially losing her father's watch than she was about her own safety. 

She got it buckled right before they entered Earth's atmosphere. Just in time for one of the wings of the pod to break. 

" _Shit!_ " Clarke exclaimed, lights flashing red around her. There was a beeping; her eyes drawn to the digital map below her on the screen. She was off course. She was _way_ off course. But despite the flashing lights and the blaring of alarms in her ears, there was nothing she could do. She squeezed her eyes shut, clutching her father's watch tight, and prepared for impact. 

She just hoped to land on land. 

\--------------------------------------

" _bro, odon hir!_ "

A voice. 

That's the first thing Clarke noticed when she started to come to. 

" _It fell down over here!_ "

She let out a soft groan as she tried to move; her head was killing her. She reached up with one hand, the one not clutching her father's watch ( thank _god_ she didn't lose it in the fall ) to touch her head; it came back bloody. She could feel the wind blowing cold through the wreckage of the pod -- _wind. Cold._

She had made it to Earth. 

She was shivering. 

" _Help me!_ " The voice called; Clarke could hear footsteps quickly approaching the outside of the pod. She furrowed her brow despite the pain -- Earth was supposed to be deserted. Wiped clean from the war. Nobody was supposed to have survived it. 

The hatch was being opened. Clarke forced her eyes open, immediately being blinded by the light reflecting off the snow. 

" _It's a girl!_ " 

" _Ontari, what are you -- oh, Spirit. _" Another voice. This one deeper. A man.__

__

__

The people were speaking a language that Clarke could not read -- but it reminded her of her soulmate mark upon her bicep. Was this the language that it was written in? 

" _She's bleeding!_ " The girl had a voice that Clarke would find annoying, had she not been her savior. She was still strapped into the seat of the pod, hanging loosely. She'd need help getting down -- especially with her injury. 

If her fingers weren't so numb she'd have gotten herself down either way. 

__"Who... who are you people?" She asked; her voice hoarse. She could catch glimpses of the trees -- _trees!_ \-- behind the pair; snow covering the ground. _ _

" _Is she speaking_ gonasleng?" The girl asked. 

"Sha." The man said, turning to Clarke. He stepped forward carefully, as if Clarke were some prey he was trying not to scare away. Not like Clarke could go anywhere, but she appreciated the effort. "I am Roan kom Azgeda." He offered out carefully, reaching forward. "I can help, if you will let me." 

Clarke couldn't find the energy to argue. She was tired, and so, _so_ cold. So she nodded weakly, allowing him to unbuckle her and set her down from the pod. The blonde, finally free from her entrapment, slipped her father's watch into her pocket for safe keeping. Once out of the pod she got a better view of the world around her; trees in every direction. The burnt remains of what was once part of her escape pod. The spaced out footprints of the people who rescued her. She could hear horses in the distance -- a sound she had only ever heard on old documentaries in Earth Studies on the Ark. It was all real, and it was all hitting her at once. 

"Can you tell me your name?" Roan asked, helping Clarke to her feet. 

"Cl... Clarke. Clarke Griffin." The blonde sighed out, wincing in pain. She could feel bruises already formed on many parts of her body; it would leave her in pain for weeks. Worse than when she and Wells got into the wrestling match a few years ago. 

_Wells._ She couldn't think about him now. He was safe, for now. He had to be. 

"Where are you from, Clarke?" 

"The Ark." Clarke stated as if it was the plainest thing in the world. 

"You fell from the sky." The girl -- Ontari -- spoke up, pointing to the cloudy sky for emphasis. She couldn't have been much older than Clarke. 

__Clarke didn't want to argue -- she didn't want to explain it all now. She was in pain. She was freezing. She wanted to be warm again._ _

__She missed her dad._ _

__"Can I... Can we go someplace warm? And I'll tell you about it." She offered weakly._ _

__"How do we know you're not lying?" Ontari asked._ _

__"Why would I lie when you already know I fell from the sky?"_ _

__Ontari huffed. Roan smiled, removing his pelt and draping it across Clarke's shoulders. "Ontari and I have a camp not far from here. You are lucky, Clarke Griffin. We were about to leave for home from our hunting trip."_ _

__"She's going to eat all our food, Roan."_ _

__"You act as if we do not have more at home. If we do not give her warmth, she will die. And then what use is she to us?"_ _

__"We could always kill her."_ _

__Before Roan could say anything, Clarke shook her head. "I fell from the sky to escape death. I'd really like to keep it that way."_ _

__Roan laughed and helped Clarke begin walking. Her boots didn't do much to keep the cold away, but they did enough to get her through the snow. She was grateful that Roan was kind enough to let her borrow his pelt until they got to someplace warmer. They led her to where their tents were set up, a fire was still barely burning. Roan set her down on a log, moving to add a few more to the fire. Once Clarke had some form of nourishment in her, she began telling the pair about the Ark, about space, and about how they had fled the war. The two seemed to believe her, but still insisted that they take her to their Queen in the morning. Clarke knew it was inevitable, but she still held on to some sort of hope in the form of her father's favorite wrist watch._ _

__\----------------------------------_ _

__"Why do you feel it okay to trespass on Azgeda lands?"_ _

__Queen Nia was intimidating; moreso than Roan appeared and Ontari proved to be. She held her head high with confidence that Clarke had only seen prior in her mother; one that said "what I say, goes" and if you attempted to betray her, you'd be headless. The blonde was all but shaking in her boots as she stood in front of the Queen's throne; her hair still wet from the snowfall that occured during their trip here._ _

__"I.. I didn't know it was Azgeda -- I don't even know what that is." Clarke admitted, almost sheepishly. Nia's eyes bore into her own as if Clarke had told a lie -- which Nia assumed she did._ _

__"I do not believe you. Where are you from?"_ _

__"The Ark --"_ _

__"Do not _lie_ , child! There is no such thing as some 'Ark'." Nia had said it with such mockery that Clarke could feel herself retreating inside herself. She was starting to feel like death was better than this; than being called a liar. _ _

__"It's in space --"_ _

__"With the stars? Do you take me as a fool, girl?"_ _

__Clarke swallowed. It was clear that Nia had already decided what she thought of Clarke, and that terrified her. She wasn't sure how to respond._ _

__"Mother, if I may -- " Roan began, stepping out from his spot on the sidelines. "Clarke is telling the truth. Ontari and I saw her fall from the sky while on our hunting trip. She fell in a metal box. I have proof."_ _

__Nia seemed unsure, yet slightly pleased by Roan speaking out. Clarke let out a breath she wasn't aware she was holding. She needed to find a way to properly thank Roan._ _

__"She will spend the night in the prison. Tomorrow, you will take the guards to this metal box."_ _

__With a nod, Roan escorted Clarke to the prison with a sad smile and a promise to come back for her the next day. He came through for her, claiming that since Roan found her, Nia had made Clarke his responsibility._ _

__And for that, Clarke was grateful._ _

__\--------------------------------------------_ _

__**_GROUND. 1 month later. age 13._ ** _ _

__Over the past month, Roan had showed Clarke around the inner city of Azgeda. He traded his own game for proper clothes to withstand the cold for Clarke; showed her the basics of how to defend herself. He took her with him and Ontari on their hunting trips; taught her how to skin her own meat and who to give the hide to for more clothes to be made. He offered up his own room until arrangements for her own to be made and treated her as if he was another one of his little sisters._ _

__He took her to the villages near the border, saying that they were the only places where crops could properly be grown and harvested. It was a little warmer than the city, but barely. "Even they struggle to grow crops," Roan had told her. "We rely on meat to stay alive."_ _

__It was in these villages that Clarke learned about the art of healing. They couldn't do much in the villages without the ability to grow the plants, but some of the healers had traded with travelers that bordered Azgeda in exchange for hides or bone. Clarke learns that resources in Azgeda are scarce; most villages are left to ration their food._ _

__"Why are there so little?" Clarke asked as they rode back to the city._ _

__"In Azgeda, winters are harsh and summers are non-existent away from the border. The villages near the border have summer, spring, and autumn to attempt to grow as many crops as they can to provide for not only themselves, but as much of Azgeda as they can. Queen Nia takes a quarter of it all to herself, leaving the rest to suffer." He explains, shifting uncomfortably on his saddle._ _

__"You don't agree with her?"_ _

__"I hate to say it, but I do not. She is not a good Queen, Clarke. She demands respect out of fear. She does not care for her people."_ _

__Clarke had noticed that Roan, in fact, cared for the people of the villages, however. She felt like he would make a good King._ _

__They rode a little longer before Clarke spoke up again._ _

__"Do the people on the ground have... soulmate marks?"_ _

She could see him grin as they passed through the trees. His teeth were as white as the snow around them. "You wish to know about _keryon tombom_ ?" He asked, glancing over at her. "Yes, we have the marks that lead us to them. They are words that appear on our bodies at birth. Do people in the sky have them, too?" 

__Clarke nodded, feeling a little insecure. She hadn't told anyone about her soulmate mark; not even Wells when he asked about it when they were twelve. She didn't understand the language it was in; she had always assumed it was someone on the Ark who was bilingual -- despite the law being they all spoke English. It had left her ashamed for so many years that whoever her soulmate was, they could be a criminal when they met. "It's in the language you speak."_ _

__"You mean the language you will learn with time, Clarke. Trigedasleng. Do you wish for me to translate your mark?"_ _

__Clarke hesitated, but nodded. It had been at the back of her mind for years -- she felt like she had every right to want to know what it was said. So she at least _knew_ when she met her soulmate. _ _

__"Then show me."_ _

__Clarke slipped off her pelt, letting it fall to hang around the back of her saddle. She pulled up the bands on her arm; the ones that kept her covered. Roan had showed her how to properly wrap her arms to keep the heat inside and to keep the cold on the outside. Roan glanced over, reading the words that appeared on her bicep easily._ _

__"You are the one they call Clarke."_ _

__"What?"_ _

__"That is what your mark says. 'You are the one they call Clarke'. Whoever your keryon tombom is, they know exactly who you are when you meet them." He said it with a smirk, but it left Clarke feeling uneasy._ _

__She had no idea what she had really gotten herself into when she got on that escape pod._ _


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kongeda is formed. Clarke is trained, and once she turns fifteen she takes part in a special ritual saved for Nia's army.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. I've been gone a while. Blame real life. It's been kicking my butt a lot as of late. A lot of these first few chapters are going to be setting the ground for this world; getting Clarke used to her surroundings. Things start picking up soon, I promise. On the plus side, this story now has a rough outline for the overall plot, so as long as I have motivation to write it in full, chapters are on the way. 
> 
> Also, I want to give a shout-out to ElseworldKara and littleraider99 for their series [Goddesses of Old, Born Anew](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1270970). The stories in it truly played a good part in my inspiration for this story, especially with the world-building in the later chapters. It's probably my favorite series at the moment, so if you like what I'm writing here then there's a good chance you'll enjoy that series. I'd definitely suggest checking them out.

**AZGEDA; age 14.**

It was early in the morning. Early enough to where Clarke herself had only been up a few hours; long enough for her to eat and bathe before she went along her usual routine of meeting with some of the city folk; talking and learning as she went. She was about to head out of the castle when a guard stopped her, informing her of Nia's wish to speak with her. It was unusual at best; Nia never wanted to talk with her unless it was to belittle her for not training fast enough. Apparently Nia wanted to make a warrior out of her, but her frail body had not only not fully developed yet, but also was still not entirely used to living on the ground. But Nia wanted perfection, and while Clarke and Roan worked hard, they apparently were not working hard enough. 

It had been a difficult year. When she landed it was on the brink of summer and fall; she had to learn to adapt and adapt quickly. Hunting was the thing she worked on the most in preparation for winter. It had been cold and harsh; not nearly what she was used to on the Ark. It was as if someone had handed her a knife and told her to take down a six-legged, two-headed bear without even properly learning how to use the knife (which is exactly what Nia had _wanted_ her to do at first, but Roan had convinced his mother otherwise). She was trained to hunt in the snow; to walk quietly despite the crunch of ice under her feet. It was difficult and draining, but Clarke knew that it had to be done. 

When she arrived at the Queen's meeting quarters, she was not surprised to see Roan and Ontari standing there already. The higher ranks of Nia's army stood along the sides; clearly this was meant for people who were important. Clarke tried to hide the excitement she felt at being considered important to Nia. 

"It has come to my attention that our new Heda has requested to form a Kongeda between the clans." Nia began, her posture relaxed on the throne. Clarke had to piece together what it all meant -- her trigedasleng was still sloppy. She had learned about Heda from her few lessons with Roan -- they had focused more on training than learning the culture. Clarke was forced to learn on her own when Nia demanded Clarke a better fighter (but that didn't stop Roan from meeting with Clarke at night to guide her through what she should know). 

"For what?" Ontari asked. 

Nia took on a mocking tone, her face scrunching up, "So we may bring peace and harmony among us." She shook her head, scoffing before she let out a laugh. The generals, guards, and Ontari joined in -- but Clarke and Roan stayed silent. 

"As if she truly believes that the clans will work together like that? She is merely a goufa! A branwoda!" Nia continued, "She knows nothing of how to lead. Guards, arrest anyone not of Azgeda who enters the city. I do not care if they are messengers or not. No one is to leave or enter the city without my permission. The last thing I need is more of Heda's branwoda's infecting my people with the poor decision that a Kongeda will work." 

The generals all nodded, filing out of the room one by one. Clarke swallowed; Nia was up to something. She didn't have to be there long to understand that. 

"Roan, Ontari. You two will prepare the goufa. Train her hard, train her well. I have no doubt that a war will be approaching soon." 

Well _fuck_.

\-------------------------------

**One week later.**

The sun was setting on the horizon, yet Clarke, Roan, and Ontari still stood in the training grounds. The sound of metal clanging against each other rang into the distance as Ontari lashed at Clarke -- one sword swing after the other. Relentlessly attempting and succeeding to get a hit on the girl. Clarke was exhausted beyond belief; they had been out there since sunrise since Nia had ordered Clarke begin training even more. Gone was her learning about the culture of the ground; gone was meeting with the villagers. All Clarke knew was _train, train, train_. Sun up to sun down. They spent multiple hours working with various weapons each day, but it was clear that Clarke worked best with katanas and smaller blades instead of broadswords and longswords. Roan had told her that her strong suit was speed, not strength. 

By a month into her training, Clarke could knock Ontari on her back six out of ten times they battled together. It wasn't enough by Nia's standards, but Roan had saw improvement in the girl. It was there in her mind; in the way her eyes focused seemingly on everything at once when she fought. The muscles in her arms began to form; her legs following soon after. She was quickly removing the "sky girl" stigma she had received among the guards and in it's place was a true Azgeda warrior. He was proud of what she had accomplished. 

When it was clear what Clarke was able to do with the weapons she had tried out, Roan took her to the blacksmith. It was a small shack on the outskirts of the city; close enough that it was within walking distance, but far enough away that Clarke had originally questioned whether or not Roan was taking her into the frozen forest to murder her. 

"A good warrior must have a good set of weapons," Roan said, leading her through the snow. Winter was fast approaching; faster than it had the previous year. It made Clarke wary. It wouldn't be long before the snow started falling in blankets instead of sheets, making hunting, as well as everything else needed to survive, much harder. 

The blacksmith seemed to be one that was used frequently; the attempted wooden floors worn from footprints and scuff marks. Everything smelt of fire; of burning logs and melted iron. It reminded Clarke of the smell of blood. Tools lined the walls of the single, big room; all various kinds. It was as if the blacksmith himself had them prepared in case of travellers or village folk in need of tools. Not that anyone really traveled through Azgeda anyways. There was a chimney that stood in the back of the room -- allowing the smoke from the forge to freely go out into the open air. The fire itself casted a warmth among the room; a nice contrast compared to the chill outside. A man who couldn't have been much older than Roan himself stepped inside from the back door, confused by the steps, but his face broke out into a grin once he saw Roan. 

"Heya, Roan. Good to see you again. And guest," He nodded towards Clarke, who nodded in return. "Did your sword break again?" 

Roan shook his head, "No. I have escorted Clarke today. She is in need of weapons of her own. The ones at the training grounds do not do her justice." He explained, looking over at Clarke with a proud grin. It was as if she had met his expectations, which made her feel happy. 

The blacksmith looked over at Clarke; his grin was still in place, but his eyes lacked hope. It was as if he knew something that Clarke didn't, and that left an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. "What are you looking for?" 

Roan nudged Clarke in the shoulder with his arm, urging her to speak for herself. "I do well with single-handed weapons in a dual-wield style. But I also excel with short-ranged weapons." She explained, feeling confident in her choices. The longer weapons would work best with a distance, but the shorter ones would be better for hunting, or the off-chance she found herself pinned. She could have a full arsenal at her fingertips if she were lucky. 

The smith nodded and went to work, leaving Clarke and Roan to talk amongst themselves. And while Roan attempted to go over strategies with Clarke, getting her ready for more training with weapons of her own, Clarke was more focused on what the smith was doing. She was entranced by the way the metal was heated, molded, turned into sharp blades of metal by the pounding of a handle. It was facinating to her. 

The weapons were done by nightfall. Clarke and Roan made their way back to the castle, with Clarke's stack of weapons attached to her in their various holsters. As soon as they were within the training grounds, Clarke was taking out the blades to get a feel for them all. The longer blades, light with curves at the end, felt heavy enough in her hands that she'd feel confident swinging them around, able to take down any foes. Their holsters sat in a cross at her back; connecting at an intersection right between her shoulder blades. It was comfortable, yet compact. There were four smaller blades; two small knives that slipped right into her boots and two that could be hidden under her clothes. Throwing knives to be kept at her waist. But there was one that Clarke preferred; a blade that was roughly the length of her forearm. It was sharp; the point sharp enough to draw blood with a simple prick of the fingertip. It was heavy; good for throwing if needed. And it had it's own holster at her hip. And with this particular blade being Clarke's favorite, she did the best thing she could do to show that. 

She attached her father's watch to the handle of the blade. 

\--------------------------------------

Winter was approaching quickly and, in it's stead, came Clarke's fifteenth birthday. Her second full year on the ground was coming, and while she was excited for turning another year older, she also knew she was quickly becoming the age to properly be in Nia's army. She wasn't ready for war; she wasn't sure she'd ever fully be ready. At least, not with the way Roan treated her as if she would break at any moment. She appreciated his efforts, showing her what a good big brother he could be, but at the same time she wished he would push her limits. 

Those limits come quickly, however, with Clarke's last few bits of training before her birthday. Roan took her out at all hours of the day and night, pushing her harder and harder. Blades, knives; he even took her out into the cold forest of Azgeda for a few nights to prepare her for the potential times when she'd have no choice but to camp out among the stars. And while she could still make out the Ark floating thousands of miles above her, she no longer missed that feeling of home. 

She didn't have a home anymore, and she knew that. But for the meantime, she has come to find a home in Roan. While he trains her, he also cares for her. Treats her as an equal instead of someone lesser than him like Nia did. Ontari tried, she really did, but she never grasped the sense of hospitality that Roan did. Ontari was a fighter; one that was trained since birth. And it made Clarke realize two things. 

One, that Roan had obviously been raised by someone else prior to Nia. He had to have been raised by someone who saw the good in life; someone who wasn't crazed with war and hungry for power. Clarke theorizied that it was the family of the blacksmith, or someone similar. Whomever it was, though, Clarke owed them thanks. Without Roan, she wouldn't have survived as long on the ground as she did. Without Roan, she'd have been dead within hours of landing. And _that_ would have gotten her nowhere. 

Two, that the Azgeda way was cruel and inhumane. She had always known this, mostly based on the way that Nia would treat her staff as well as her family. Slaves, destined to kiss her feet and bring her the last of the meat in the entire Clan. Nia saw herself as powerful, but all Clarke saw when she looked at the woman was a coward who was too prideful to do things for herself. She saw this in Ontari, too, but lesser. While Ontari was proudful, she was still raised by Nia. Destined to be a ruler; destined to raise hell among the rest of the Clans. And that scared Clarke. 

Her second realization only became more true when her fifthteenth birthday finally arrived in the form of Nia calling Clarke to her quarters once again. 

"I have been informed that you have been training hard with Roan, Klark." Nia drawled, not bothering to meet Clarke in the eyes. The blonde only nodded, her hands folded behind her back. She could feel the outline of one of her smaller knives at the hem of her pants, secure, yet hidden. A sign alone that she was now a warrior, despite her age. 

"I have also been informed that today you have passed fifteen summers." 

Another nod. She couldn't place where Nia was going with this. 

"Do you know the age of which children begin enlisting in my army?" The woman asked, standing from her throne. She walked over to Clarke; head held high. She placed a hand on Clarke's shoulder, her long fingers pushing a strand of blonde locks from Clarke's face. 

"No, Kwin." 

"Fifteen, Klark. Fifteen summers."

Clarke swallowed. 

"But, of course, in order to properly join my ranks you must follow suit with tradition." 

Nia looked towards the far set of doors; one was slightly ajar. Without a second thought she yanked Clarke's arm, dragging her towards the door. Clarke tried to dig her heels into the hard ground; an attempt to regain her bearings. She had that uneasy feeling in her stomach again. She wanted to run. She wanted to scream, but her lungs wouldn't allow it. 

She wanted her dad. 

"Calm down, child. It is only a slight amount of pain. Why can you not cooperate? You saw Ontari go through her marking. She didn't move an inch." Nia scolded, placing Clarke in the chair. 

Nia was right. Ontari had gone through it effortlessly. Ontari had stayed still during her entire branding. 

But Ontari was raised on pain and suffering. 

Clarke was raised on luxury. 

"What were you thinking for this one, my Kwin?" The man asked; the fire behind him was warm. It reminded Clarke of the blacksmith; but the comfort brought by the blacksmith was instead replaced by fear. Clarke could almost smell the sweat on the man's brow. 

Nia looked to the door. Clarke forced herself to look away from the man by the fire to see Roan stepping through. 

"My Kwin, if I may. I do believe that I may do well in telling what best represents Klark." He stated, his stance respectful, yet urgent. 

"If you must. Get on with it, Roan." 

"Thank you, my Kwin." Roan nodded, stepping forward. "She is fast. Strong, yes, but not as strong as the other warriors. She is smart, yet resourceful. She knows her way around a battlefield and picked it up within a few weeks. While she isn't the best warrior out there, she is definitely a force." He explained, looking to Nia for confirmation. At her nod, he continued. "I think I have an idea for her design." 

Roan guided Clarke to lay down as he stepped forward, silently telling her that it was going to be okay. And it begun before Clarke could even process what Roan was saying -- the pain was instantaneous. She could feel Roan's fingers tracing along the side of her face, the pain following soon after -- a pain that Clarke knew was necessary if she were to stay alive in Azgeda. She had no choice but to do this. Because if she didn't -- a more painful death was inavoidable. 

She blacked out from the pain at some point, but was woken up hours later by Roan pressing a cold cloth to the sides of her face. It hurt to open her eyes. It hurt to open her mouth -- it hurt to breathe. But the cold compress helped, if even a little bit. 

"I am sorry that they had to do this to you." He stated; his voice calm, yet morose. 

"It's fine, Roan. I know it was needed." 

"I wish she didn't do these things. Why enlist your warriors with pain?" 

"It's a sign. One that we're all under her control." Clarke sighed, moving to sit up. She wished she had stayed conked out a little while longer. 

A few moments passed; the only sounds being the crackling fire and Clarke's uneven breathing. Eventually, Roan held up a piece of metal; one that had a reflective surface. 

"Would you like to look at it?" Roan asked, handing it to her. 

As Clarke looked into the metal, she let out a gasp. She didn't look like herself. Red, blistering lines littered each side of her face; starting at her hairline and trailing along her temples into her cheekbones. But they weren't just any lines -- no, they looked like veins. As if she had been electrocuted. 

"It's simple, but it was done. I wanted one that wouldn't cause you too much pain." Roan explained, shrugging shallowly. Clarke knew he was just trying to think of the right words to say. 

"It's okay, Roan." Clarke nodded slowly, "It had to be done." 

Once Clarke was able to stand again, Roan guided her back to her chambers. But only once she was behind the closed door of her room did she let the tears from the pain she felt over the past two years come to surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original outline for this chapter was a lot longer, but I wanted to get something out for you guys. I hate taking too long with chapters. 
> 
> As always, let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> As always, let me know what you think!


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